Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum
by yesimahuman
Summary: A collection of somewhat-related stories detailing the aftermath of the Human-Covenant War.  Hint: genocide does not a peaceful reconciliation make.  Most prominently features the Jiralhanae, Humans, and Sangheili.
1. Chapter 1

_After the conclusion of the Human-Covenant War (and, simultaneously, the Covenant Civil War), the galaxy was thrown into turmoil. The vast majority of the species that had participated in the war maintained varying levels of distrust and hostility towards each other. Sangheili and Human relations were turbulent in the aftermath of the war; diplomatic relations attempted by any species with the Jiralhanae often ended in skirmishes._

_ The age after the Human-Covenant War, lasting roughly between 2553 and 2681 (by which time most hostilities had dissipated, and the Federation was founded), was marked by a series of remarkable realignments taking place within the former belligerents of the Human-Covenant War. The impetus of these changes was perhaps the existence of a mutual enemy—by 2597, it had become apparent that the threat of the Flood was inactive no longer (it would not be until 2699, upon the discovery of the Avnari, that the unwitting re-release of the Flood from Installation 02 was made apparent). _

_ However, the need to unite in the face of a common enemy proved to be a weaker force than the hatred that many powerful members of the prominent fighters of the Human-Covenant War still held. Many Humans still remembered the countless millions of lives lost to both Jiralhanae and Sangheili glassings; the Sangheili would not easily forget the Jiralhanae's betrayal. In post-war interstellar conditions, the Humans, Jiralhanae, and Sangheili were the three major players. Though the Unggoy, San 'Shyuum, Kig-yar, and other species did indeed remain significant, the vast majority of post-war conflict was fought between the three aforementioned races. Yet the first three races to re-establish inter-species alliances since the downfall of the Covenant were the Jiralhanae, Humans, and Sangheili. _

_Before the Federation was established, however, a century of animosity between the three species was to be endured…_

-Excerpt from "The Human-Covenant War: the Conflict and Aftermath"

* * *

**March 13, 2557, Jiralhanae Battlecruiser _Glorious Might _**

Above the surface of Doisac, the Battlecruiser _Glorious Might _warped out of Slipspace. The surface of the Battlecruiser was pockmarked and burnt, evidence of the trials the _Might _had undergone in order to arrive at Doisac. At the bridge, the Chieftain Maximus knew firsthand how important this meeting was to his own ambitions.

The war was over. The Covenant had been rent asunder. The Prophets, once sacred icons to be revered, had fled.

Their lies had been exposed.

It began slowly. Investigation teams uncovered the Hierarchs' records. Maximus had personally read the journal of the Prophet of Truth himself.

Maximus would reflect, in later years, that the Sangheili had been in a position that made it far easier to accept the truth. In furthering their lies, the Prophets harmed the Sangheili, yet benefited the Jiralhanae—it was easier for the Sangheili to realize the deception, when the deception had resulted in the slaughter of the Sangheili High Council. Maximus had believed the Prophets, initially. Why not? Their lies had removed the damned Sangheili from the equation, and had, in turn, promoted himself and his brothers to higher positions. Ambition had blinded them all to truth.

Maximus knew that it continued to blind them still.

The world was different now. New courses of action needed to be taken. With these thoughts in mind, Maximus strode into the Hall of Counsel.

Formerly, the room, located just below the bridge of the _Might, _had served as a reception area for visiting Prophets. It had been previously ornately decorated, with ceremonial glyphs written across the walls.

Maximus had stripped it bare. Two statues, ten feet tall, carved out of stone taken from the crust of Doisac itself, were all that remained. One was the image of Zoruk, the Jiralhanae God, the God who ruled Maximus' people before the False-Prophets spread their lies. The other was the image of Julius, first Chieftain of the Brutes, wielder of the Hammer of Zoruk. Why would Maximus not worship the Old Gods, now? The Jiralhanae were zealots even before the San' Shyuum arrived. They would remain religious even still.

Two his left and right, four other Jiralhanae stood, their custom armor and ornate headpieces glinting in the artificial light. Before the induction of the Jiralhanae into the Covenant, counsel had been performed standing up. It was a sign of respect. It showed that each Chieftain considered the other Chieftain a threat large enough to warrant a standing position.

Surrounding the five Chieftains, standing on the elevated fringes of the Hall, stood the Honor Guard of each respective Chieftain. They would not contribute to the conversation—they were but witnesses.

Alpha tribes had disintegrated after the fall of the Covenant. Only the master-packs retained any semblance of cohesiveness. Before Maximus stood the leaders of four master-packs.

Maximus cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the gathered Chieftains. "Chieftains, I come before you with an offer of peace."

Maximus could detect the unease that crept into the Hall with those words, and counted himself lucky that the Chieftains before him possessed some semblance of self-control. Had they been of a lesser rank, the conversation might have turned heated.

"I realize that you, Regulus," Maximus said, "and you, Titus, have been experiencing difficulties attempting to quench the rebellion that stirs your master-packs' ranks."

Titus stepped forwards. "The insubordinate fools that continue to pester me are not your concern, Maximus," he growled.

Maximus chuckled. "I know how those blinded by ambition work. They hide their treachery for some time; their cowardice does not allow them to act any further. They strike when their betters have their backs turned, yet still claim that their victories were honorable. Chieftains—would we have these vermin continue to plague the sacred Pack? I say no. A thousand times no!"

Brutus, the oldest among the assembled Jiralhanae, crossed his arms over his chest. "Traitors are as old as the Doisac itself. We are used to them. They are like the insects that gather around a mighty Zankrelp: they pester, yet they cannot move a being of superior might."

"An underestimation, Brutus," Maximus responded. "We would have six Chieftains gathered here, were it not for the rebellion that killed Janus. The only reason that we can attend this meeting is because we have not yet fallen prey to the same insubordination."

Kanum, the youngest Chieftain in the room, snarled. Maximus noted that the youngest Chieftain was also the most impetuous. "You dare slander me? I, for one, reached _my _position through trials and tribulations of blood and pain! The only reason I can attend this meeting is because I was _strong,_ not lucky!"

"And I would not doubt that, Kanum," Maximus said. "Yet I would advise you to cool your anger. I welcome any challenge you would level at me, but all the same, I would prefer that you not. I have more productive tasks in mind."

Maximus smiled to himself when Kanum did not act. Perhaps there was hope for his species after all.

"I would agree with my senior Brutus, however," Maximus said. "Insubordination is nothing the Jiralhanae have not dealt with before. In fact, the primary quarrel I have with traitors is that they prevent great Chieftains such as ourselves from focusing on the primary offense to our pride."

For once, Maximus received a semblance of agreement from his fellow Chieftains. All gathered knew what he was referring to. Hands gripped into fists, Gravity Hammers were adjusted. There was nothing that could stir a Jiralhanae's blood better than heresy.

"Even after the Prophets' lies have been exposed, some vermin continue to cling onto them," Maximus spat. "The remaining Prophets promise Heretic Chieftains—traitors such as the self-proclaimed Chieftain of the Jiralhanae Gargantus—power and position. I spit on their promise! I would have Gargantus brought before my feet. I would kill him myself, and then I would use his bones to sharpen my teeth!"

"Chieftains, I need your help to do this."

Brutus raised his head. "You are proposing an alliance."

"I am, Chieftain Brutus," Maximus said. "I even offer you a reward: each one of you would receive weapons, land, and ships if you were to join me."

Brutus chuckled. "Offering gifts, such that you may gather more underlings? A foolish proposition, Maximus."

Before Maximus could respond, the elder Chieftain continued: "I will join you without accepting your petty bribes," he said.

Regulus and Titus looked at Maximus in shock. The Chieftain squared his shoulders in return. "There was a time, long ago: a time that my father told me of. It was a time when Zoruk our Lord was worshipped with due reverence. It was a time when brother stood for brother, and brothers stood for their Chieftain. It was a time of honor, and valor, and unyielding determination and courage in the face of the enemy."

Maximus nodded. "Wise words, Chieftain Brutus."

And so began the negotiations. They were brief. Brutus wanted little but a position of reasonable power and retention of control over his Jiralhanae. After the negotiations concluded, the oath was taken—Jiralhanae treaties were verbal, not written. The words of a fellow Jiralhanae, and especially a fellow Chieftain were to be taken as the truth. Not to do so would be to disrespect a fellow Chieftain, and to disrespect a Chieftain would most likely start a war.

Maximus turned towards Titus and Regulus. After a moment's hesitation, the two gave quick nods, and stepped forwards. Only Kanum remained.

"The only purpose that I remember my Hammer serving is to serve the Hierarchs," Kanum professed. "And now I learn that the worms lied to us all, and I learn that still some Jiralhanae continue to serve them."

Kanum looked up. "Do you swear, as a Chieftain of the Jiralhanae, that you will grant us power that we may lead our Pack, and that we may together find purpose for the Jiralhanae once more?"

Maximus answered: "In the name of our Lord Zoruk,and in the name of the First Chieftain Julius, I do swear."

And so, the oaths with the remaining three Chieftains were taken. The alliance had been established.

It was time, now, for action.

"Brothers," Maximus proclaimed. "We have a long journey set out before us by the Lord Zoruk. First, we crush the insubordinate. We remove from the ranks of the Jiralhanae those that would seek to topple their superiors. We will foster ambition where it is due, but we shall blot it out when it interferes with our goals.

Secondly, we reestablish Jiralhanae power. We were once a race to be reckoned with. We shall be again. The worms and their dogs the Sangheili played with the toys that the Forerunner left behind. The Jiralhanae were the _only _ones who invented—who innovated—who made tools of war, not playthings! Our ships will be the terror of the galaxy, our guns the mightiest in the universe.

Finally, we will kill every single Prophet that breathes. We shall exterminate every traitor Jiralhanae who continues to serve them. We shall find Gargantus, and grind his skull into dust! The Jiralhanae had a guiding purpose once. The Prophets replaced that with lies, and now that purpose is no more. We shall recover that purpose! To fight for our Lord Zoruk, and in doing so, to serve our Pack and our brothers—that was our purpose. It shall be once again."

Maximus paused. It was simply for dramatic effect. If he wanted to crush his enemies, crush the San 'Shyuum, and crush the traitor Gargantus, he would need followers, and if he wanted followers, he would need to speak well.

"Honor Guard, you have not spoken for the entirety of this counsel," he said. "Yet I would like to know if I may trust the Jiralhanae's strongest. Are you with me?"

One Jiralhanae stepped forwards. "I shall see your goals completed or die fulfilling them, Chieftain Maximus."

The remaining Honor Guard roared their approval. Maximus smiled.

His ambition was a holy ambition—not an ambition to further his own position, but an ambition to further the position of Zoruk himself.

Maximus nodded at two underlings who had been waiting by the entrance to the Hall. Quickly, they exited the Hall, to retrieve the package.

"It would be disrespectful of me to dishonor my guests; after all, it is my duty as Shipmaster of the _Glorious Might _to ensure that all visiting dignitaries are attended to. As such, I would like to invite the Chieftain Brutus, the oldest and wisest of the Jiralhanae assembled here, to bring forth his Gravity Hammer. We shall end this meeting with a ritual to ensure Zoruk's favor in our enterprise," Maximus said.

Brutus made an admirable attempt to hide his surprise, but Maximus knew better. Even a veteran such as Brutus had not yet witnessed everything.

The two Jiralhanae returned. "Shipmaster," they said, nodding their heads respectfully. After delivering the package, however, they did not leave. They wanted to witness this.

Before Maximus was the package. He had managed to deter his crew from consuming the prisoner for weeks, after its capture. He was saving it for a reason.

"It is only appropriate that the first Chieftain to accept my offer of alliance would be the one to draw first blood in our glorious campaign," Maximus declared.

Maximus turned to the package. It was one of the Worms, pathetic and weak. The Honor Guard roared in anger. The Worms had lied to them. They had fooled them with the promise of promotion, and used the Jiralhanae to further their own goals.

Unforgiveable.

The Prophet of Magnanimity looked up to see himself surrounded by Jiralhanae. Fear gripped his heart.

"Death!" one Honor Guardsman yelled. Similar choruses echoed throughout the Hall.

"Infidels!" he screeched. "The Prophet of Succession will lead the Covenant down the path of the Great Journey! Gargantus will strike you down!"

Brutus moved forwards, deaf to the San' Shyuum's words.

"You barbarians!" he screamed. "Get away!"

Two Honor Guardsmen moved in from the wings, chaining the Prophet's hands to the wall. This was how execution was meant to be done: with righteous anger in the heart, and with brutal strength wielded by the hands. Brutus raised his Gravity Hammer.

"The Great Journey will leave you behind," the Prophet gasped. "You—all of you—will crawl in the dirt. You and the Humans, there is no difference between you monk-"

Brutus grabbed the San 'Shyuum by the throat. "You may condemn us to a hell we do not believe in; that is no matter, as we know that our Lord will save us. But I will _not _permit you to compare us to the Humans."

Casting the San 'Shyuum aside, Brutus stepped forwards. He glanced sideways at Maximus, and Maximus made a sweeping gesture with his arm. This was Brutus' moment. It would not reflect well on Maximus if he was to steal all the glory immediately.

"Yours is a hated race," the Prophet proclaimed. "You will all be destroyed, if not by Gargantus' hands, then by another's!"

Maximus chuckled. "Let them try," he said.

Brutus nodded. "For Zoruk!" he bellowed.

"For Zoruk!" was the crowd's answer.

Brutus brought his Gravity Hammer crashing down.

* * *

Review, please.


	2. Chapter 2

_Maximus the Conqueror, Chieftain of the Jiralhanae from 2559-2593, united the warring and fragmented states of the Jiralhanae into one cohesive unit. His rule was unlike any ever witnessed by the Jiralhanae—all Chieftains serving under him were personally appointed. To be considered for the position of a Chieftain, a Jiralhanae had to demonstrate both valor on the field of battle and loyalty to Maximus in his speech and actions. The incredibly selective process by which Maximus chose his field commanders, along with the brutal manner in which he dealt with insurrection (traitors to Maximus would be tortured, killed, and have their entrails be sacrificed to Zoruk) ensured that Maximus did not have to deal with the issue of ambitious underlings that plagued his predecessors. The campaigns of Maximus shattered the power of the remaining San 'Shyuum and Loyalist Jiralhanae, driving the broken remnants of the Covenant back to Outer Rim worlds. It is unknown exactly how many worlds Maximus glassed throughout the duration of his campaigns._

_One of the most striking changes that Maximus imposed upon Jiralhanae society was the introduction of the Forgemasters. Forgemasters, unlike regular Jiralhane military engineers_

[TERMINATING DATA STREAM]

[RETRIEVING CHAPTER 12: "HUMANITY IN THE POST-WAR ENVIRONMENT"]

[CHAPTER RETRIEVED]

_Post-war Humanity had its work cut out for itself. Though reluctant to help Humanity in any other respect, there was a unanimous sentiment among the Sangheili High Council to return to Humanity any conquered or glassed worlds. There was little option left for humanity left but to re-terraform colony planets, as Humanity's severely weakened post-war military was in no shape to embark upon an expansionist campaign (though this would later change). _

_As soon as the February of 2553, terraforming began. There was no shortage of jobs for returning UNSC personnel. The re-colonization of glassed worlds became humanity's greatest undertaking in over three centuries. By 2571, 75% of all glassed worlds became habitable once more. _

_At the same time, the UNSC armed forces were seeking to reestablish the strength they had maintained before the Human-Covenant war began. The single greatest issue faced by UNSC forces was that of the massive technological disparity between the former races of the Covenant and Humanity. However, Humanity had an advantage: Sangheili military engineers were practically nonexistent, and Jiralhanae Forgemasters refused to touch Forerunner technology, as it was both a violation of their religion and a mark of shame to rely on the Gods of the Worms. Human engineers maintained no such qualms. Beginning in 2555, technology retrieved from Installation 05 was reverse-engineered into UNSC ships, arms, and armor._

[TERMINATING DATA STREAM]

[RETRIEVING CHAPTER 12, SECTION 7: "SPARTAN-IV"]

[CHAPTER RETRIEVED]

_The most memorable heroes of the Human-Covenant war would never be forgotten. ONI, recognizing the immense morale boost that the SPARTAN-IIs had brought to the battle in the Human-Covenant war, began the SPARTAN-IV project on Reach in 2559…_

* * *

**2560, January 21, SPARTAN-IV training facility, Reach**

Richard Kingston, designation Richard-014, would sometimes wonder if it was truly necessary that SPARTAN-IV training take place on Reach. There were a number of planets in the Inner Colonies that had already been terraformed, due to limited glassing by the Covenant. ONI could have used those planets. Richard could, with minimal effort, ascertain why not.

Reach had been burned to the ground. Terraforming had started, but not in the section of the planet that ONI was using. The earth that the trainees walked on was glassy lechatelierite, every black-and-gray square inch. ONI's intent was clear. The forces of the Covenant—the Grunts, the Jackals, the split-jaws and the apes—they were still at large. They had consumed entire worlds in holocausts, and Humanity would not be caught off-guard again. Already, the smelly apes had united under the smelliest ape they could find. And though the Brutes were mainly interested in attacking other Brutes and Prophets, thank God, that didn't mean that they gave Humanity a free pass. No, anything but. UNSC ships encountering Maximus' fleet usually managed two to three minutes of terse conversation before being fired upon. The Brutes had been in for a surprise—rudimentary shielding already was used aboard a few experimental ships, and Forerunner technology was already improving the firepower of Archer missiles and MAC cannons. Humanity was all too eager to fire back, if the Brutes were so kind as to fire first.

And that was where the SPARTAN-IVs came in.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Robert Samoray was their God. He was a legend of the Human-Covenant war, serving on the field in Reach, New Mombassa, and countless other battles. Rumors of SPARTAN-I augmentation and training traveled around camp. But first and foremost, Samoray knew how to train a man. Samoray was their inspiration. He was the man who told the SPARTAN-IVs exactly _why _they had been brought unto the galaxy. It was simple.

"Protect humanity," Samoray had said. "Ensure that not a single world ever suffers the same fate as the world we stand on today. Kill anybody who interferes with our objectives."

Officially, the objective of the SPARTAN-IV program was to aid UNSC forces in the field against remnant Insurrectionist and Class-Alien threats. There was no delusion among the trainees that they would be doing much of the former. Unified Earth Government had already passed laws giving more control to colony worlds—much easier to allow military leaders commanding certain sectors of space to take orders from system political leaders than straight from Earth. The move had placated large groups of Insurrectionists. However, there was another reason as well: everybody had lost somebody in the war. Insurrectionists had their priorities straight. They said what they would about the UEG; they called it imperialistic, oppressive, sometimes even tyrannical—but even that was better than "genocidal." Insurrectionists would rarely find themselves within the sights of SPARTAN-IV strike-teams. Marines could probably take care of them, ODST if the situation became tough. But SPARTAN-IVs were going to deal with giving aliens a belly full of a lead and a kiddy pool of their own blood to drown in.

Richard was a volunteer. His parents were one of the lucky few who managed to escape Harvest. He had been born in 2545, therefore becoming one of the older trainees—recruitment range was thirteen to sixteen. Most were orphans: it was far easier to sign up for a program that would most likely kill you when your parents were dead.

Augmentation was to occur within twenty four hours. Supervising ONI staff had their mouths sealed on the details of the process. So, inevitably, mess hall speculation was abounding.

"Well, it doesn't matter _how _they do it," Jeremy reasoned. "As long as _what _they do works, no?"

Jeremy Hawkins, designation number 087, was 14 years old, and a member of Blue Team, along with Richard. Not much was known about the augmentation that SPARTAN-IIs had underwent, and nobody was even sure _what _the SPARTAN-IIIs were or if they even existed, let alone the specifics of augmentation. Jeremy, in keeping with his duty of "appointed gossip-spreader and rumor-maintainer" (self-appointed), had to guess, or give up.

"After augmentation, ONI greenlights us for active duty. Bets on the first target?" Jeremy proposed.

Next to Jeremy sat Christine Lincoln. Christine-188 was the designated marksman of the group. Richard believed that she juggled the personality requirements for the position nicely: warm friendliness towards her fellow team members and cold ruthlessness towards her targets.

"Twenty credits on the Brutes," Christine said. "We can't stab the split-jaws in the back _right _after they saved our asses, and we probably won't even be able to fight them, you know? Almost the entire UNSC fleet being destroyed and all. I doubt that the Elites are going to be very eager to fight us, either. If we're going to be making sure that the terraformers in the Outer Colonies aren't attacked, we're going to be hitting the Brutes."

Richard nodded. "Samoray's done a decent job of training us," he said. "I'm just waiting for augmentation to happen. Washout chance is what, 1 in 10,000, now? They've had to have improved those since the SPARTAN-II days. Right now, my schedule is 'get augmented, finish training, start killing alien bastards.' Make mom and dad proud up there."

There was a brief pause, before Jeremy spoke up. "So, which of us is going to become the new Master Chief?"

* * *

The SPARTAN-IV augmentation process was not intended to create expendable heroes, nor was it intended to create a new generation of legendary supersoldiers. The helmet of a Spartan was already a symbol of hope within UNSC ranks. Humanity was no longer in the dire straits it had been in the latter half of the war, so suicidal desperation attacks were not needed.

SPARTAN-IIs had already given humanity hope. Now SPARTAN-IVs were to give humanity's enemies fear. Augmentation was to create killing machines, with unbreakable bones, unparalleled strength and speed, and killer instinct unmatched by anything the Jiralhanae or Sangheili could produce.

There would be more SPARTAN-IVs than SPARTAN-IIIs and SPARTAN-IIs combined. Medical advancement (Forerunner databanks had a rather disconcerting amount of information on the human anatomy) had allowed augmentation to happen later than ever before. The fame of the SPARTAN-IIs led to tens of thousands of aspiring heroes registering for testing. Only a fraction would even manage to enter training, but it was still a massively popular program. The SPARTAN-IVs would be numerous. There was going to be a "Demon" in every major UNSC campaign. Every alien bastard would live in fear of the Bogeyman showing up on their front doorstep.

Robert Samoray smiled. "Zero percent washout rate," he muttered to himself. Every single one of the SPARTAN-IV Alpha Generation, all five hundred and thirty three, would enter active duty.

When the time for war began once more—and war _would _begin, war _always _would begin—humanity would be ready. It was a move of tactical common sense to prepare for eventualities.

* * *

**October 29****th****, 2560, New Washington, Frontier**

New Washington, Humanity's outpost on Frontier, had become a hellhole. Brutes were interested in Frontier's considerable natural resources. Humanity was unwilling to let Frontier go. War had ensued. Glassing the planet would mean making mining impossible, so the Brutes had dropped in infantry to secure Frontier.

Richard had been assigned to defend New Washington.

Three Jiralhanae were pouring down fire on his right flank. HUD indicated two more coming up on his left. Wraiths were raining down fire upon his position. Two Banshees screamed overhead—except they weren't really Banshees anymore, after the Brutes had their way with the things, they were faster, more agile, and now they fired ammo made of "oh god somebody call a medic."

The marines holding out behind the ruined remnants of a hotel were pinned down. With the uncomfortable feeling that comes with being surprised, Richard realized that they were looking at him.

He was the hero. He was supposed to save the day.

The Banshees were the biggest problem. Their rounds tore through armor and flesh alike. They had to go.

Raising his assault rifle, Richard unloaded an entire clip into a strafing Banshee. Every single round hit.

Nothing happened.

Richard checked the belt at his waist. He had three fragmentation grenades and one scavenged plasma grenades. The frag grenades would be worse than useless. He had exactly one shot with the plasma grenade.

Thumbing the bright orange button on the plasma grenade, Richard appreciated the light blue glow that enveloped him momentarily. Then he hurled the grenade.

The plasma grenade fused to the side of the Banshee and exploded. Fragments of the ruined aircraft rained down upon the Jiralhanae troopers, killing one.

John-117 was not intended to become a military celebrity. Truth be told, SPARTAN-IIs were meant to be shock troopers, and only occasionally sources of inspiration.

But John-117 was the SPARTAN-II that had excelled. There are generations of heroes in every decade and every war, but there are only a handful of legends.

_So, which of us is going to become the new Master Chief?_

_

* * *

_

Review, please. I'll expand on "Forgemasters" in a later chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fight with honor, my brothers! A warrior who fights like a coward is no warrior, a commander who hides behind his soldiers is no commander. Only those who are capable of honor are honored in return. The legacy of Sangeilios' greatest warriors is preserved because of their virtues. We remember them because they fought with dignity and respect! _

_ We must remember to uphold these values, brothers, for dark times approach…_

_ -Thel 'Vadam_

* * *

**2570, July 1****st****, Assault Carrier **_**Unrepentant Glory's **_**Bridge**_**, **_**Slipspace**

In order to fight with honor, there had to be an enemy to fight. But, truly, did such an enemy exist anymore?

The Jiralhanae Chieftain Maximus had the False Prophets beneath his gilded heel. The might of the Jiralhanae ships—Kanei 'Vadam had seen the recordings himself—overwhelmed the San 'Shyuum. The Jiralhanae still maintained little concept of tactics, and Kanei still would place his bets on his fellow Shipmasters if the Jiralhanae ever developed a sudden liking for playing Gokun, yet Kanei still had no idea what the strange beams of light emanating from the Jiralhanae ships were.

The navigation officer turned around. "Shipmaster, we will be arriving in Sanghelios in approximately three hours."

Kanei nodded. The _Unrepentant Glory _was returning to Sanghelios for a convention of the High Councilors. All Fleetmasters, Shipmasters, Fieldmasters, and Field Marshalls of the Sangheili armed forces were attending, if not in person, then by hologram.

Times had changed, since the fall of the Covenant. Other races were adapting to the new conditions. It was time for the Sangheili to do the same.

Before the San 'Shyuum had found the Sangheili, Sanghelios had been divided among the City-States. This had not changed when the Sangheili were members of the Covenant, and it had not changed since the dissolution of the Covenant. Kanei suspected that it would never change. An honorable Sangheili's duty, after protecting the Sangheili people, was to his State. That had been written, long ago, and it had been drilled into every young Sangheili's mind. Why not? Kanei was reminded of the ancient story: a traveler journeying to the city inadvertently takes the wrong route; he becomes lost in the desert and starves. Another traveler takes the same incorrect path, but is told early on by a fellow journeyman that it is the wrong path; he sets out on the right path and reaches the city. It was no different than how Sangheili children behaved—if they were never taught the virtues of honor then they would never find glory.

Glory. Kanei snorted. Every aspect of a Sangheili's life concerned glory.

However, in these times, trying to find glory could not cloud the judgment of the Sangheili. Thel 'Vadam, Arbiter of the Sangheili and Kaidon of the State of Vadam, had spoken to the High Councilors before about the matter. Humanity would not forgive the Sangheili anytime soon—perhaps they would never do so. Jiralhanae ships were still out for Sangheili blood. Whether or not the menace of the Flood still loomed over the galaxy was unknown. This age was not an age for glory hounds, Thel had said, but one for survival.

A small blip on the command panel indicated an incoming transmission. From behind him, Kanei heard the communications officer give a small mutter of surprise.

"Shipmaster, the transmission is coming from the Assault Carrier _Shadow of Intent, _flagship of the Fleet of Repentance. The bridge wishes to speak with you. It is possible that it is not the Fleetmaster who is sending the communication, but…," the officer announced.

If Kanei had been any less disciplined, he would have gasped in shock. The Fleet of Repentance was the largest fleet in the Sangheili navy. So, naturally, the Fleetmaster would be one of the most respected Sangheili in the galaxy: the Arbiter, Thel 'Vadam. And if the flagship bridge was contacting his ship, it was probable that the Arbiter himself was contacting his ship.

Steeling himself, he pressed a button on the bridge console and opened communications.

"Aribter," he said (with just the exact amount of reverence required). "Your Graciousness would wish to speak to me?"

Thel 'Vadam was not a tall Sangheili. Nor were his mandibles unusually long, or his shoulders unusually wide. Yet all the Sangheili could recognize his image immediately. Perhaps it was the manner in which he carried himself, or the way his eyes narrowed when he spoke.

Perhaps Thel 'Vadam was simply famous.

"There is no need for reverence, Kanei 'Vadam," the Arbiter replied. "It is both a Kaidon's and an Arbiter's duty to serve the people of Sanghelios, is it not? There was a wise individual who once told me that nobody should be honored for doing his duty—and as doing my duty is all that I have done, I am not yet worthy of the titles you bestow upon me."

Kanei secretly wondered who had said that. He was well-versed in ancient Sangheili philosophers, and he had not seen such a sentiment mentioned in any of their texts.

"But yes, Kanei 'Vadam, I do have a task for you," Thel replied. "The state of political affairs as of late has been disconcerting, to say the least. I had initially hoped that we, the Sangheili, might be able to forge an alliance with the Humans-"

Kanei recalled that Thel had fought alongside the humans in the war against the False Prophets.

"-yet it has become apparent that this is an unfeasible course of action. We must look to other options for preserving the Sangheili, and it is to you that I entrust this task."

"Your will is my command, Arbiter," Kanei said. "What would you have me do?"

Thel nodded in acknowledgement. "The former races of the Covenant—excluding the Jiralhanae, of course—were dependent upon the higher caste races: the San 'Shyuum, and the Sangheili. Now, with the dissolution of the Covenant, the Unggoy, Yanme'e, and Kig-Yar have been forced to retreat back to their homeworlds. With the possible exception of the Kig-Yar, they have no navy, barely any leader-capable individuals, and, if the Jiralhanae so choose to exterminate them, no chance for survival. I believe that we should take advantage of this situation."

The Arbiter paused for a moment. "Kanei, what do you believe makes an honorable individual?"

"I believe that those who exhibit dignity through their actions and their words are honorable. Those who respect their opponents are honorable. Those who fight for their people first and their State second are honorable," Kanei said.

All of which were fairly standard textbook answers.

"Finally, I believe that those who are capable of freeing themselves from their legacies are honorable."

"Oh?" Thel said, intrigued. "Do continue."

Kanei thought for a moment, and spoke again. "The False Prophets would have been remembered as saviors if it were not for you, Aribter," he said. "But you yourself admit that it was sheer luck that their lies were exposed, and that we now remember them as reprobates and cowards.

Arbiter, if I was a guileful as the False Prophets, I would wager that I could commit any number of atrocities and still be remembered as a righteous man. And I would also wager that there are hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of brave Sangheili that fought honorably, and died without anybody to witness their deaths.

Yet they died gloriously and honorably—fighting for State and people, fighting bravely and without reservation. What does legacy have to do with glory? The leaders of the Sangheili are obsessed with the notion of glory—words drilled into our heads as children to guide us. I would question this obsession."

Kanei remembered himself. "Forgive me, Arbiter, I have overstepped acceptable boundaries."

Thel 'Vadam laughed—booming, echoing throughout the bridge. "How amusing," he said. "A Shipmaster, one of the highest positions a Sangheili can achieve, decrying one of the most ancient Sangheili beliefs, yet at the same time still concerning himself with boundaries."

The Arbiter continued. "I do not know if I agree with you, Kanei 'Vadam," he said. "Yet I do know that you are a Sangheili that I will trust," he said.

Thel 'Vadam spoke again. "In the War, I witnessed valor on all sides. The humans earned my respect because of this. I believe that it is foolish for any one side to hold a grudge against the other, but I recognize that it is near impossible to expect this. However, I still believe that any race can achieve glory. This is why, after the High Council meeting ends, I entrust you with the mission of diplomat. You are to reestablish relationships with the former races of the Covenant."

"Aribter, I-" Kanei started. This was unprecedented. Unexpected. Unforeseen. Kanei had never even heard of Shipmasters undertaking diplomatic missions before. The concept of diplomacy was still rather foreign to the Sangheili.

And yet, what better course of action than to re-forge relationships with the former Covenant races? Perhaps they would not be alliances—in fact, Kanei doubted that they ever would be—yet having trade relations between the Sangheili and the Kig-yar, or some form of contract employment for the Unggoy would suffice.

Diplomacy was not a glorious mission. Perhaps Kanei would remain unremembered by history. Yet it served the Sangheili people. It fulfilled the orders of his State's Kaidon.

Diplomacy would be dangerous. There were rogue groups of extremist Unggoy out for any blood besides their own. Kig-yar would bite of their mother's ear for a good deal. And there was always the threat of Jiralhanae or Human retaliation.

Diplomacy would not be glorious, but it was honorable. If Kanei could contribute one thing to his species, it would be to make sure that glory and honor would not be conflated with mindless battle, irrational leadership, and blind devotion again. Oh, fighting had a time and place, and for that, his people were ready—yet the galaxy had been soaked in blood for decades, and it was not the time for another war.

"I accept," Kanei said.

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Review, please. Probably not doing Jiralhane, Humans, or Sangheili next. If you want, state your preference for minor race in the reviews.


	4. Chapter 4

_Were it not for Sangheili assistance, the former races of the Covenant, save the Jiralhanae, would most likely be relegated to a footnote in the history of the post-war environment. However, Sangheili assistance allowed many members of the Kig-yar, Unggoy, and others to serve in Sangheili ships. It was not a true alliance; the Sangheili did not provide the other species with military defense, nor were the Unggoy or Kig-yar expected to serve in times of war (though many volunteers did indeed serve as part of the Sangheili military). A true alliance-forming treaty would not be signed for decades to come. However, the relationships between Sangheili and former Covenant races were mutually beneficial and non-trivial. _

_-Excerpt from "Sangheili Society"_

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_ Xenologists studying the planet of Balaho have reached a general consensus that the famed cowardice of the Unggoy was perhaps an evolutionary necessity. The need to flee as often as possible is exemplified best in an Unggoy saying:_

_ -Excerpt from "Xenology: A Complete Guide"_

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**2588, Zhango Forest, Balaho**

"Everything on Balaho is trying to kill you," Jinjin reminded himself.

It was true. Earthquakes, a result of Balaho's almost comically unstable tectonic structure, were almost a monthly occurrence. Storms created methane vacuums lethal to anybody who entered. Wildlife was very big, very deadly, and very hungry. What was small and weak enough to easily kill did not taste very good.

And that was before the Covenant came and extended the friendly offer of "join us or your entire planet burns."

Life under the Covenant, from whatever Jinjin could find about those times, was bad. Definitely worse than what had come before, at any rate. Given the choice between a world full of death and a galaxy full of theocratic maniacs who didn't care about your death, the Unggoy would choose the former.

But, in the Covenant, what else could they hope to do but try and survive? Adopt the religion, try not to put yourself in the Sangheilis' way too much, and don't even try to negotiate with Kig-yar.

Fucking Kig-yar. Jinjin, being born after the war had ended, hadn't had the misfortune to have to fight with (or, if he was unlucky, under) the Kig-yar, but there were always the Kig-yar traders who hitchhiked with Sangheili ships. For emphasis: fucking Kig-yar. Jinjin still had a few scars to show for his numerous (and violent) encounters with the bastards.

Times had changed, however. Times always changed. The Covenant had been dissolved, the Prophets?—all liars. There was no Great Journey, and the "Sacred Rings" were weapons of genocide.

Truth be told, Jinjin had no idea what the fate of the Unggoy race was. Jinjin had heard of the Unggoy that had volunteered to work on Sangheili ships—practically the only way to depart Balaho, seeing as the Unggoy were never in command of any starships. The Sangheili meant well, he knew: they respected the Unggoy who actually fought, and they were kind enough (or were crazed about "honor" enough) that they would extend a helping hand to any Unggoy who would accept it. But the fate of the Unggoy wouldn't be to serve the Sangheili for the rest of time. Jinjin wasn't going to board a Sangheili ship, because, quite frankly, he was sick and tired of serving another race. Even if the stories that came back from the Sangheili ships spoke of decent pay (excellent, if you impressed a Sangheili superior in combat) and good treatment, Jinjin did not want to interact with anything that reminded him of the Covenant again, Sangehili included.

However, if a Sangheili, or even a Human, or even a _Jiralhanae _(Kig-Yar were still out of the question) could come and assist Jinjin right now, he would be satisfied.

The Sereno roared (loud sounds meant danger meant _run run run run run _on Balaho) in anger. Jinjin had managed to shoot three plasma bolts into the Sereno's side before the massive beast had raised its paw and knocked the pistol out of Jinjin's hands. Jinjin had the plasma pistol to defend himself from potential Kig-yar pirates, but the sidearm was fairly useless against a Sereno.

"Everything on Balaho is trying to kill you," Jinjin repeated, sprinting across the jungle. "When in doubt, run away."

There was a deafening crash behind Jinjin as the Sereno flattened a tree with its tail. "Wonderful," Jinjin muttered. Up ahead lay the Rangan Falls. Jinjin had lost track of how many Unggoy had slipped and fallen.

Behind him, the Sereno burst out of the forest. Performing a maneuver that had perhaps been ingrained into Unggoy brains by decades of dodging Sangheili foots, Human grenades, and careening Warthogs, Jinjin dived out of the way.

The Sereno roared, stumbled, and fell. Jinjin couldn't believe it. It had worked! It had-

The rock under Jinjin crumbled, and with a final "Oh, mother-," Jinjin fell. He hit the water, jarring every bone in his body, and then blacked out.

Five hours later, Jinjin woke up. The surface he was lying on was hard, cold, and generally unpleasant. Harsh lights shone from above. As his hearing cleared, he could make out-

Sangheili. Wonderful.

Jinjin knew how to bide his time, however. The moment he heard a lull in the two voices, he rolled out of his bed and ran.

After five seconds, Jinjin realized that he was not moving anywhere. That was perhaps because the Sangheili behind him was holding onto his shoulder and not allowing him to move. Giving a small sigh of defeat, Jinjin gave up.

It was strange, seeing the Sangheili dressed up in oxygen tanks. Most of the images Jinjin had seen of the Sangheili were of the Sangheili in battle, without the cumbersome masks.

"What is your name, Unggoy?" a Sangheili asked.

Jinjin quickly considered the merits of lying to the Sangheili, before answering, "Jinjin."

The two Sangheili looked at each other for a moment, before nodding. "Jinjin, we are taking you to-"

"Before you take me to wherever, could you please tell me where I am?" Jinjin asked. "N-not that I'm trying to know anything important, your lordships, but-but I would just like-"

"Firstly, there is no need to address us as lords," one said. "Secondly, you are on the Sangheili Destroyer _Endless Bounty_."

Jinjin was on a Sangheili ship. For some reason, Sangheili had abducted him. He was surrounded by aliens a good three feet taller than him, all of whom were armed with better weapons than him. That is, they would be better armed, if Jinjin was armed at all. They were taking Jinjin to an unknown location to do some unknown task that would most likely involve something bad.

That was why he didn't want to board a Sangheili ship.

Jinjin blacked out again.

When he came to, he heard more Sangheili voices. "Steady, brother," one said. "The great warrior is still recovering from his battle."

Jinjin had no idea who they were referring to. Groggily, he sat up.

His surroundings were of a typical Sangheili medical cell—that is to say, a hard bed and no actual medical facilities.

A Sangheili at his left kneeled by his side. "Do you require more rest?" he asked. They were behaving more cautiously around him now. They obviously didn't want a repeat of Jinjin's first fainting episode.

Jinjin shook his head. "Then I shall take you to see the Shipmaster," the Sangheili said.

Wait, what? Shipmaster? What was going on?

This was not Jinjin's first time inside a Sangheili ship. The merchants and artisans who served their various Kaidons often came to Balaho for supplies. There had been that mishap when Jinjin was a small Unggoy and he had accidentally set fire to a dropship, but he had managed to avoid the blame, so all was well. In any case, because this was not Jinjin's first time inside a Sangheili ship, he knew what a bridge looked like. He did not, however, know what a Shipmaster looked like.

His first impression of the Shipmaster of _Endless Bounty _was that the Shipmaster was big—very, very big. His golden armor gleamed in the lights of the bridge. Everything about him exuded an air of importance. Jinjin fought down the "when in doubt, flee" instinct. The escort Sangheili bowed in acknowledgment of the Shipmaster and left.

"Warrior Jinjin," the Shipmaster said. "I am the Shipmaster of the Endless Bounty, Xnos 'Vadum. It is an honor to finally meet you."

"M-meet me?" Jinjin asked. "I'm sorry, exactly what is it that I did?"

Xnos frowned. "Were you not the slayer of the Great Beast? We found the body of it next to your unconscious form. Scouts in the forest of the Great Beast saw you face the monster and wound it with your weapon. Even after you lost your weapon, our scouts reported the valiant trap you set near the Endless Falls."

"Um…do you mean the Rangan Falls?" Jinjin asked. Honestly, he had no idea why the Sangheili was so impressed: all he had done was trick a dumb beast into falling off a waterfall. "Uh, those really aren't _that _bad, just slippery. And a Sereno isn't the most dangerous thing on Balaho, either. You just need enough time to get big enough guns, which I didn't really _have_, so…"

Jinjin was confused as to why the Sangheili looked so shocked. "_A _Sereno?" Xnos asked. "Do you mean to say that there are _more _of these things?"

Jinjin nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Serenos are usually herbivorous, but if you happen to stumble upon its offspring, it gets violent. It's been mating season, so the number of attacks has risen. I'm sure that Shipmaster will be able to journey inside Sereno territory within a few months."

"Unggoy serving aboard this ship have never spoken of their homeworld," Xnos said. "This is the first time I've heard of these Serenos. The Great Beast killed many of my men. I am indebted towards you for slaying it, Jinjin."

"W-what?" Jinjin asked. "Look, I'm no warrior. You guys are the soldiers. I was _lucky _out there. I-I was just out to gather some roots, and I happened to have a plasma pistol on me. I didn't even know that the Rangan Falls were close by. I just wanted to live. If you're indebted to me, all I want you to do is just put me back down on Balaho."

Xnos gave the Sangheili equivalent of a smile, which was more a strange twitch of his mandibles. "You are honest, at the very least. Seeing the planet the Unggoy lived on has certainly given me a new perspective on the lives your race leads. Are you certain that you wish to return to Balaho? You will see new worlds if you join our crew. If you wish, I will explain the situation to the crewmates. You won't have to be worshipped as a great warrior; you will simply be a member of the crew. This ship has seen great things, and you could become a part of them. "

Jinjin paused. Participating in great things? Working on a Sangheili ship? The Shipmaster made life serving on a ship sound much better than what Jinjin had thought.

But Jinjin was no warrior. He was an Unggoy: cowardly, maybe, but humble and hardworking. He knew that some of his brothers were fighters and soldiers, but that wasn't what Jinjin wanted to become.

"I'd rather not, Shipmaster," Jinjin said.

Xnos nodded. "Very well," he said. A dropship will take you down to the surface of Balaho shortly. May you live a long and prosperous life."

"The same to you, Shipmaster," Jinjin said.

Three hours later, _Endless Bounty _jumped out of Balaho's orbit. Jinjin the Unggoy was not on board.

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Review, please.


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